


Without Boundaries

by shirothejiro (bottlemanjams)



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Canon Universe, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Canon, Reunions, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 15:11:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19359484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottlemanjams/pseuds/shirothejiro
Summary: Maybe I can't do without you.





	Without Boundaries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Joshywhale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joshywhale/gifts).



> this was written as a gift for my beautiful friend joshy because it's her birthday today! happy birthday bby i hope you like the new ending

 

When the former residents of No.6 and West Block met at the wall, no one spoke. Evening fell over the sky, coating the fallen mortar in a honey glow. The rubble was weak beneath their feet, their shoes slipping between the cracks and kicking off smaller rocks as they shuffled from right to left, faced with their opposites. It was a very long time before someone shimmed forward, holding onto the remains of their division as they climbed higher and higher atop the pile of stone. 

The woman fearlessly climbed towards the ex members of West Block, and when she reached the top, she simply held out her hand. An offer. ‘Pull me up’, it said, lingering in the mild breeze. ‘Breach the boundary’. Her gaze was firm, feet unwavering from their hold on the pile. 

The hand that clasped hers, without much hesitation, screamed ‘unity’, and they didn’t let go for a long time. 

 

Thus began a new life.

 

The people recycled what was left of the wall. Instead of the symbol of control as it had once been, it had become the symbol of safety and freedom. The bricks passed from one hand to another, fingers grazing as they did, and nobody pulled away. Instead, touches lingered. A hand on a shoulder, a touch of two knees, the brush of someones’ elbow against anothers’ thigh. Everybody needed to feel so badly. 

 

This way, shelters were built. Food storage and hospitals too. Government buildings were stripped of everything that made them exclusive, and instead the large conference rooms and labs were given to people to sleep in. Curled up together on old benches, desk chairs and waiting room sofas. It was all reclaimed. Surviving homes shared their resources and some even took in refugees, while others remained silent to the calls of help at their doors. Even then some people held onto their old ways, rigid in their beliefs. Nevertheless, this wasn’t their world anymore. They wouldn’t last long with that sort of attitude. The old belief system was dying off. 

But the people didn’t need to know everything. This was enough. The mountain had burned in the fire, and that was for the best. Shion knew that truth well. Better than anyone.

 

When he sank into his mother’s waiting arms, watching the tears swelling in her eyes, she had tugged on the loose fibres of his being, slowly unravelling him until he was only thread. He had changed, yes, but this was one thing that had never been tainted.

He held onto the back of her cardigan as she cried. “Shion, you’re home.” She’d said it a hundred times in the last hour, never moving from their spot in that perfect street. “You’re really, really home.”

“Yeah.” He’d sobbed. “Yeah mum, I’m home.”

 

In her arms, it was almost like he’d never been gone.

 

-

 

It was another late night in the bakery. Some collectors had just been round to ask for donations, and his mother had just about given everything she had, with the promise that she’d continue to bake for them. It was all hands on deck at the moment, as anyone could imagine. Anyone with a hand or two to spare was working hard to rebuild their lives. Shion himself had been handing out supplies all day, but for the moment he decided to rest. 

He sat at the table, a cup of water in his hands, watching the world outside of the bakery window. 

He hadn’t thought much about Nezumi since their departure, far too busy, but sometimes on nights as quiet at this, he allowed himself to wonder about what he could be doing. Causing trouble for someone, no doubt. The thought made Shion smile a little. 

Maybe he was travelling. Seeing the world, making new friends. It was a nice idea and it brought him comfort, so Shion accepted it without argument. Ignorance is bliss, afterall.

 

His hands tightened around his cup.

 

Yeah. That’s quite right.

 

He allowed the thought to leave him quickly and instead chose to stand and pluck a book off the shelf. He turned it over in his hands, examining the title on the spine, printed in beautiful gold ink. It read ‘Without Boundaries’, and he could feel his brain slow a little, tracing the letters. It stung his fingers.

Without Nezumi, would he have ever realised the full gravity of the truth? There were signs throughout that this life couldn’t and shouldn’t last. This book had been on this shelf since he was very little and sometimes his eyes would ghost across the title and never fully process it. ‘Without Boundaries’ sounded boring, like a dusty old romance novel that he could never understand, so he never picked it up. Could he have ever truly understood what it meant to live without boundaries on his own? Or, without Nezumi, would he still be living in that beautiful apartment block, studying hard and wailing into the open air; knowing something is wrong but never being able to quite place his finger on it? 

 

Probably. The thought chilled him, and he shoved the book back as far into the bookcase as possible, spine against the wood and pages turned towards him. He wasn’t going to think about it because it didn’t matter now that the hard part was over. It didn’t matter. The hypotheticals were over.

 

He sat back down in his chair, rather put off reading for now, and settled into his previous position. 

And then came quite the unusual sound. Like a light tapping near the bottom of the door.

 

Shion’s fingers twitched. It sounded small and it wasn’t a knock. 

 

Hope swelled in his chest and he really couldn’t help the way it bubbled over. He shoved his chair back as he stood up quickly, making long, fast steps towards the door and almost ripping it off his hinges. 

 

And there it was. A rat holding a small piece of paper. 

 

He couldn’t help the way he cried as he took it from him, sinking down onto the floor to read the small handwriting. It was simple and to the point, just like him. 

 

_How are you?_

 

Shion curled in on himself, smiling happily into his knees. He was okay then, and he wanted to keep in touch. He wasn’t ready to let Shion go. 

“Good.” He told the rat as if it could understand him. “Because I’m not ready to let him go either.”

 

-

 

They kept in touch just like that, notes passed back and forth across long distances. Shion couldn’t help but wonder how far Nezumi was from him, as it seemed that the time between messages was getting longer and longer. 

They didn’t go into too much detail about their lives and it wasn’t much of a conversation either, just notices every now and then, but it was fine. Shion was happy and he hoped that Nezumi was too. 

 

One day he had asked him, “How far are you from me?” And within that day the rat showed up at his door with a note again.

“Close, Shion.” Nezumi had replied. “Close enough.”

 

“Can’t you come closer?” Shion had quickly written back, sniffling back his tears.

 

He hadn’t received another reply for 3 weeks. The wait was agonising, and he often found himself wondering if he’d ever write back. That Shion had pushed too far too fast, and that Nezumi might never come back to him. 

 

Then that knock. That beautifully human knock; 4 sharp raps against the glass of the bakery door. 

 

Shion had frozen on the spot, hand hovering in the air from where he was about to grab his scarf. He refused to believe it; he wasn’t going to allow himself to think it was him. So, he took his time wrapping his scarf around his neck, tapping on his shoes as he called out, “Hold on!” in a voice he hoped didn’t give too much away. But he was shaking everywhere. His teeth rattled in his mouth and his veins twanged like guitar strings being plucked so much that he could barely get ahold of the doorknob. 

He steeled himself and opened the door.

 

“Is this close enough?”

 

Nezumi smiled, hands hidden in his pockets and coat whipping in the rough winds, eyes positively _shining._

 

It would never be close enough.


End file.
